


Nothing Comes As Easy As You

by RavenGrey



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bisexual Dean, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Dean is kind of a man-whore, Dean ticks off a witch, Established Relationship, Humor, Jealous Sam Winchester, Kissing, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Premature Ejaculation, Rimming, Sam cock blocks Dean, Sibling Incest, Wincest - Freeform, Witchcraft, delayed orgasms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenGrey/pseuds/RavenGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean hits on a witch without knowing it and when Sam steps in to keep Dean from going home with a stranger when he should be going home with him,  she slips a hex bag into Dean's pocket and calls it a night. The result is unfortunate, but hilarious. For Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Comes As Easy As You

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written anything and I'm pretty sure it's butts, but here ya go. Any mistakes are my fault.

            It isn’t the first time Dean’s ditched him at a bar to go hit on a chick and or dude and it isn’t the first time it’s ticked him off. He takes a sip of beer and props his face against his hand while he watches Dean woo the unsuspecting red head with vague bemusement and just a smidgen of irritation.

             She’s got full lips, outlined in a killer shade of red that’s going to get everywhere, stain Dean’s skin that same viscous shade, and Sam’s going to have to look at for God knows how long. He doesn’t so much mind the lipstick, lipstick washes off if you scrub hard enough, it’s the potential bruises that her boyfriend’s hands might leave on Dean’s skin that bother him. They’ll be there for days and Dean will were them with pride. Hell, he’ll strut around like he does and show ‘em off because he knows Sam doesn’t mind too much when he slinks off into other peoples beds every now and again.

            Dean’s got a hand on her hip and a hip on that guy’s hand and they all look warm and cozy together while Sam is sitting at their wobbly table, alone, not drunk enough, rolling his mostly empty beer bottle between his hands. It doesn’t bother him, not really, that Dean’s going to spend the next couple hours with people that aren’t him, but he’ll be damned if he’s gonna sit here and twiddle his freakin’ thumbs, probably have to get his own damn room or sleep in the Impala, while Dean gets his freak on.

            The bars pretty crowded, and Christ is it loud, but Sam slips through it with relative ease and slides in behind Dean. Dean looks up at him, confused and a little irritated that Sammy’s steppin’ on his game, right up until Sam slips a hand into his back pocket and squeezes his ass. He barely notices the surprise that registers on the couples faces before he’s leaning in to nibble Dean’s ear. He squeezes again and flicks his tongue against Dean’s earlobe while pressing himself against Dean’s back.

            He blows a warm breath over Dean’s ear and then pulls away when he shudders, leveling a cheery grin at the befuddled couple. “Ready to go sweetie?”

            Dean levels a look over his shoulder that clearly says “what the fuck dude?” and Sam’s grin  just widens as he slips his hands out of Dean’s pocket and slides them over his sides so he can snug both his hands in his front pockets. He rests his chin on Dean’s shoulder and tries not to beam too much when Dean swallows hard and sucks in a quick breath through his teeth.  

            “Not just yet, Sammy, think you could give us a minute?” Dean asks easily, voice just a little rougher than usual. Sam’s heat is addicting and Dean leans back into it despite the fact that he’s still hoping to salvage the situation. Sam’s hands are real damn close to his dick and he shudders a little when Sam flexes his fingers. Sam knows what he’s doing, the smug bastard, and Dean takes a swig of beer to cover up the quiet, surprisingly desperate sound that rises in his throat.

             “I could, but I’m not going too.” There’s a spot, just behind Dean’s ear that turns him to jelly and Sam turns his head and slides his tongue lightly over it, not able to see the way that Dean’s eyes almost roll back in his head. He wriggles his fingers closer to Dean’s dick and runs them up and down his shaft with limited movements. Dean’s breath catches, and it’s loud to Sam’s ears, loud and damn arousing, and Sam grinds his hips minutely against Dean’s ass. Dean’s shoulders go tight against Sam’s chest and his breaths go sharp and shuddery out of nowhere.

            “Sorry,” Sam grins sheepishly at the amused couple, directing their attention to him instead of Dean, who’s breathing hard, fingers white knuckled around his bottle “he’s a bit of a tease, I shoulda kept a better eye on him.” The red head and her tattooed boyfriend relax, although she still looks a little embarrassed “I know the feeling, Jays a _huge_ tease, I’m Marlene by the way.” She laughs sheepishly, taking a discreet step back out of Dean’s space after one last mournful pat.

            “Sam, and this,” he rocks Dean’s hips forward playfully “is my boyfriend Dean, he’ll be buying your next round as an apology for being an ass-clown.” The tension dissolves from there and they finish a round of beers together while Dean pouts and tries not to fidget. Sam takes his sweet time finishing his fourth beer while Dean looks more and more uncomfortable.

            Dean excuses them before Sam actually finishes and Sam lets Dean drag him through the crowd, throwing in a goodbye wave over his shoulder just to piss Dean off. When they get outside, Dean grips him by his coat and pins him to the wall “Really man? Freakin’ really?”

            Dean stares up at the sky with an expression that clearly says “why lord.” and tries to smother the squiggle of arousal Sam’s possessive jealousy causes.

             “Did you see how hot they were? What the fuck Sammy?” Dean rages, pupils blown, freckled cheeks dusted with a rosy blush that has nothing to do with alcohol.

            “I did see how attractive they were, I do have eyes,” Sam says wryly, looking down at Dean, hands held loosely at his sides. He drops his head forward to nuzzle his nose against Dean’s pulse and pulls back just as quick when Dean makes a borderline desperate sound. He scans him quickly and then jerks his eyes back to Dean’s. His eyebrows are attempting to acquaint themselves with his hairline and a startled laugh bubbles up from his chest.

             “Did you- yeah, you came your pants.” There’s a small, but growing, wet patch on the front of Dean’s jeans and it can’t be anything but cum. Sam lets his eyes drop to Dean’s groin before looking back into Dean’s affronted, slightly embarrassed face. He’s pretty sure Dean just jizzed his pants with little to no contact and it had been one of the hottest things he’s ever seen, now that he knows what the hell that had been. 

             “Sure as hell did, you sonuva bitch.” Dean grits out, zipping up his jacket with grumpy, quick movements. “Now, since you decided to fuck me over on the _insanely_ hot power couple, who were willing to do things I don’t even think I can freakin’ say out loud, you’re going to be the one to fuck me over.”

            Sam’s lips twitch down in an exaggerated frown “Oh woe is me?” he asks, lust pooling slow and whisky warm in his belly as thoughts of Dean spread out on one of their twin beds filter through his head. Dean laughs, and it’s a little mean, before he says with relish “Woe is you buddy, you’ve got 20 minutes to make it to the room before I find someone else to shack up.”

            Dean’s backing away why he’s still talking and Sam’s a little drunk so he doesn’t make the connection until Dean bolts for the car. Sam tears after him, seconds behind but too slow in the long run. “Dean, don’t you dare.” Sam laughs, pleasantly breathless as the locks kerchunk and Dean starts up the car with a smug grin on his face. “You, ohmygod, you cock monger.”

            Dean rolls down the window, one mocking crank at a time, and flops a hand out the window “Tell me Sammy, how does one monger a cock?”

            “You tell me.” He snorts and raises his eyebrows. “Really?” Dean just keeps on grinning “Really, get to runnin’ Sammy boy.” Sam shakes his head in disbelief and makes a show of stretching his calves. “Wasting time, brother mine, get a move on.”

            “You’re enjoying this too much.” Sam huffs, pulling off his jacket and tossing it in the car. It smacks Dean in the face on its way to the passenger seat and he keeps a straight face anyway and twists his torso a few times to loosen up. It’s cold out and he rubs at the goose bumps that rise on his skin.

             “You’re damn right I am.” Dean tosses the room key at Sam’s feet and it hits with a little puff of dust.

            After scooping up the key, he starts running like he’s supposed too, fighting a rueful smile despite the fact that Dean’s keeping pace beside him in the Impala and calling out encouragements that are less encouraging and more lewd things that aren’t really fit for the public. About halfway there, Dean speeds up to a point where he can’t keep up and he falls behind, despite the fact that’s he’s full out sprinting, and makes it to the motel with maybe a minute to spare. When he jams the key into the lock, the door judders to a halt because Dean’s got the door chain locked.

            “Oh come on.” Sam pants; sweaty despite how brisk it is, rattling the door to get his point across.

            Dean takes his sweet time opening the door and looks entirely too pleased with himself when he lets Sam in. The sweaty, spiteful hug Sam gives him takes away from that, but not by much.

            He makes a clicking sound with his cheek and teeth and says “I don’t know Sammy, cuttin’ it a little close.”

            Even though he hasn’t caught his breath just yet, Sam kisses him anyways, a warm, smiley thing that has Dean’s hands on his hips and tongue in his mouth almost as soon as it starts. His lungs are burning and his chest is tight but Dean’s lips move against his rough and intoxicating and Sam doesn’t mind one bit that he’s nearly wheezing.

 “Bullcrap, I made it.” He huffs against Dean’s mouth; eyes bright as he pulls free to unbutton his shirt. The second it’s off he snags Dean by the hips and kisses him like he means it. Sam’s lips move slow and purposeful over Dean’s, while Dean kisses like he’s doing his best to burn him up from the inside.

            “Barely.” Dean points out, hands sliding up to grip Sam’s sides while he tries to kiss the life out of him. Sam’s still trying to take it slow, fuckers into that, Dean guesses, but Dean wants it hard and quick and he wants it now. “But I did make it.” Sam points out, throat still burning from his sprint, and nips Dean’s full bottom lip. Dean does it fast so Sam doesn’t have time to protest, legs locked around Sam’s hips, arms around his neck in a sudden frontal koala and mashes their lips together.

             “Tender and sweet later, fuck me into the mattress now.”

            “As you wish.” Sam says, laughing when Dean jerks his hair. He can feel the hard outline of Dean’s cock against his lower stomach and has to swallow hard as his dick gives a fierce throb. It’s not too hard to get Dean to the bed, even though he’s one clingy mother-fucker and he has to pretty much pry him off, the end result is worth it. Pupils blown, shirt rucked up to the bottom of his ribcage because his jacket got lost in the initial fray, lips parted, Dean looks like sin wrapped in denim and a worn Blue Oyster Cult t-shirt.

            Sam makes a quiet little sound and settles between Dean’s knees, fingers scrabbling for the hem of Dean’s shirt. When it’s off, Dean shimmies up the bed so Sam has more room and slides a hand down his chest, eyes half-lidded and locked on Sam’s, to rest it on the buckle of his belt. He undoes his belt casually; eyes full of liquid heat and breathtaking amounts of arousal. He pulls it free with a flourish and tosses it off to the side.

            Sam rolls his eyes and drops his head down to rub his cheek against Dean’s groin. Dean’s zipper digs into his cheek and he rubs his hands up and down Dean’s thighs, enjoying the way his back arches and his hips press up eagerly. He turns and licks a stripe up Dean’s length, denim rough beneath his tongue, and slides his hands under Dean to grip his ass. Dean gives a soft grunt and buries a hand in Sam’s hair, eyes shuttering closed as Sam gently nips Dean through his jeans. The sharp jerk of his hips has Dean’s cock pressed right up against his face, the scent of Dean’s arousal thick and musky in his nose.

            “Dude, fucking come on, enough pussy-footing around you limp dick mother-fucker.” Dean groans impatiently. Sam pulls back, clearly affronted at Dean’s crudeness when Sam’s trying to be tender, and smacks the flat of his stomach. “You’re a fucking ass-hole, you know that?” Dean grins toothily at him and says “And you should be fuc-” Sam smacks him harder, the sharp, hollow sound ringing loudly as Dean’s breath leaves him on a laugh.

            “You are _so_ gross.” Sam groans, unbuttoning Dean’s fly and pulling down his zip. He shimmies Dean’s pants down to his knees, with Dean being unhelpful turd all the while, and tries to pull them completely off only to realize Dean’s still got his boots on. “Shut up baby, I know it.”

            Sam groans out a laugh and moves down to jerk off Dean’s boots without untying them. Dean doesn’t even try to help, hands crossed behind his head as he watches Sam pull off his socks. Sam gets Dean’s pants off and moves back up so his hands are braced on either sides of Dean’s hips.

            Dean’s olive green boxer briefers have a sizable wet spot on the front, where Dean’s hard dick strains against the thin fabric and Sam slides a thumb through the damp mess, Dean’s cock twitching beneath his thumb. Dean shudders and bucks his hips into the touch, breath catching on a raspy groan when Sam strokes him through his boxers, hand skating lightly up Dean’s length and squeezing when he gets to the tip.

            “Hate you.” Dean drops his head back on a frustrated moan and moves to grip himself because Sam’s pace is glacial and he wants it _now_. Sam slaps his hand away and drags his tongue over the wet spot, adding to the slick mess inside of Dean’s boxers where pre-come beads on Dean’s achingly hard dick. “Shut up baby, I know it.” Sam echoes wryly, swirling his tongue over Dean’s head before licking him from base to tip. Sam slips his fingers under the elastic of Dean’s boxers and pops it once, enjoying the way Dean jumps a little and his hands fist tightly in the sheets.

 The taste of salt and musk rolls over his tongue and he puffs out a groan against Dean’s wet skin that has Dean’s hips jolting before he can stop himself. Dean’s stomach muscles are trembling and his breaths are coming hard, like he’s close to finishing and Sam’s a little confused because they’ve only just started and Dean’s like, the master of sex, so he’d assumed that first time had just been a fluke. Sam’s starting to think he may have been wrong about that. 

            Feeling just a _little_ petty after his impromptu sprint to the motel, Sam hooks his thumbs in the band of Dean’s underwear and eases them down his hips to his knees, the quiet hitch of Dean’s breath making something low in his belly burn with lust as the cum slicking his skin starts to dry the second it meets the air. Sam closes his hand around Dean before he bounces up against his own stomach, the sudden heat of Sam’s hand almost too much for Dean. He keeps from cumming prematurely for the second time that night by biting his tongue until it almost bleeds and throwing his head back so he doesn’t have to look at Sam’s hand wrapped tight around him.

            He’s trembling a little and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his skin as he sucks in breath after breath, close enough to just fucking losing it that Dean’s more than a little confused. He makes the mistake of looking down and sees Sam’s fingers encircling him, eyes that are too damn clever looking up at him with wicked intent and the sex flush spreading over Sam’s cheeks that all add up to his second delayed orgasm of the night. By the time this one’s subsided his breaths are coming in gasps, rough, needy pants that makes Sam’s dick throb and his heart beat fast.

            Dean’s dick is flushed, the vein along the side standing out enough that Sam could trace it with his tongue if he wanted to, and God, does he want to. So he does, tongue slipping neatly along the side of Dean’s dick as he closes his lips around Dean’s head and sucks. He uses his hold on Dean’s ass to haul him up so he has better access and does an intricate thing his tongue that he’s oddly proud off.

            Dean makes a noise; Sam doesn’t how to describe it, he just knows that he’ll never forget that searing sound that’s something between a whimpering keen and a rapturous moan. And then he cums in Sam’s mouth. Hips jerking, hands clenching, breaths stuttering as Sam sucks him through it, Dean is struck speechless, which Sam can’t help but note is really freakin’ impressive because Dean hardly ever shuts up. He swallows mouthful after mouthful of bitter cum as Dean arches his back and pushes himself about half-way into Sam’s mouth, lips open and eyes shut tight. Sam’s never seen anything more gorgeous that Dean lost in the throes of bliss.

            When Dean’s hips finally stop jerking, Sam eases him down, Dean’s spent dick sliding from his mouth and leaving his lips shiny with spit and a few errant drops of cum.

            Sam wipes a thumb along his bottom lip and then sucks it clean while Dean gasps where he’s sprawled, boneless and limp on the bed, an arm thrown over his eyes. Sam’s still catching his breath, and Dean’s obviously upset about the fact that he’d lasted about 6 minutes, _maybe_ , but that doesn’t stop Sam from settling back on his heels, still completely clothed if not a little disheveled and muttering with more amusement than Dean thinks is necessary  “Twice Dean. Twice. There something you wanna tell me?”

            Dean peeks out from under his arm, levels a glare at Sam that has no fire behind it because Dean is as limp as a jellyfish and grumbles out a grumpy “Fuck you.” before scrubbing a hand down his cheek and flipping over so he doesn’t have to look at Sam’s stupid smug face.

            Which is a dumb fucking thing to do because his sensitive, spent cock rubs against the coarse sheets and sets off too-sharp spikes of arousal that have him hissing through his teeth. He goes to flip back over, only to have Sam’s weight drop on his legs and flatten him back against the bed.

             “You know, I was planning on it,” Sam says flippantly, crossing his arms on Dean’s ass and then resting his chin on his hands “but at this rate, we’re not getting anywhere. Maybe I should just finish up by myself and let you get some sleep, huh?” And Sam, motherfucking Sam, sounds sympathetic and earnest while he’s actually being a huge douche-canoe about this sudden, devastating development.

             Dean’s never cum early, well, not this fucking early, not with any of the strangers he’s wooed and definitely not with Sam and he’d be a little freaked out if he hadn’t been turned to mush by his consecutive orgasms. Which had also been a surprising first. Not that he’s complaining. He’s still a little winded, so Sam gives him the time to catch his breath by doodling sigils over the skin of Dean’s lower back, fingers tripping lazily over scars whenever he comes across them even though he’s still diamond hard in his jeans.

              Dean puffs up, manly ego unable to bear the slight upon his honor even though Sam’s fingers feel damn good and he could probably drift off to sleep easy, and turns to glare at Sam over his shoulder “Let’s fucking do this. Now. Put your dick me.”

            Sam smirks, dimpling on one side. “Easy there tiger, we’ll see, let’s let you cool off for a bit.” Sam’s tone is condescending without actually being condescending and his breath blows warm and teasing over his skin. “Do it.” Dean grits out, even though he’s still shuddery with aftershocks.

             Dean shivers and Sam smiles like Christmas has come early, not just Dean, and licks a neat stripe up the crease of Dean’s ass; huge, warm hands gripping both of Dean’s cheeks and parting them so the next swipe of his tongue slides directly over Dean’s heated entrance.

            And just like that his heart is hammering and his breaths kick up a notch and there’s the too-quick, really fucking confusing pooling of lust in his belly despite the fact that he just came like two seconds ago. He groans, the sound muffled against the mattress, and rocks his ass back, cock filling with blood a- _freaking-gain_ when Sam teases his rim with delicate flicks _._

            Sam keeps up the shallow strokes that drive Dean to the edge and back, just barely there brushes of his tongue, until Dean’s writhing, pushing that breath-taking ass of his back impatiently and making involuntary, delicious sounds that curl, wicked sharp, down Sam’s spine.

            On one particularly impatient thrust of Dean’s hips, Sam slips his tongue inside Dean’s rim and makes an upward stroke, Dean’s muscle clenching down hard. “Still wanna do this?” Sam asks softly, rubbing his thumb over Dean’s hole with teasing lightness. 

            Dean’s breath stutters, then stills as he locks down his stomach muscles to keep from coming, hand scrambling down his stomach so he can lock his fingers tight around the base of his throbbing dick. Sam keeps it up, slipping his thumb in up the first knuckle suddenly and keeping it there.

            When Sam touches him he _burns,_ like taking a big gulp of straight up gin, but everywhere. He’s always burned for Sam. Always, but this, God, this feels like he’s bathing in the flames and it feels _damn_ good. His dick is slick with pre-come, and lots of it, and his hips rock minutely against the sheets as he fights down the near over-whelming waves of pleasure that crash down on him from God knows where.

            “You bet I do fucker.” Dean gasps, stomach twitching and fluttering as he sucks in quick breaths. He jolts when Sam kisses him; lips feather light against his heat, before he pulls away with one last touch of his tongue to hunt down the lube. “As his highness demands.” Sam says with proper gravity as he shimmies of bed and gets to his feet, dick chafing a little against his boxers and jeans.

            “That’s right bitch.” Dean says smugly, chokehold maintained on his dick to make sure he doesn’t come again until Sam’s inside of him. He turns on his side to keep his dick from touching anything and takes the few seconds it takes Sam to wrangle the lube out of his duffle to catch his breath. And shamelessly ogle his brother.

            He watches Sam bend hungrily, cock pulsing out a bead of pre-come when his jeans stretch taut over his well-muscled ass. “Jerk,” Sam snorts, pulling out his mostly empty tube of strawberry flavored lube “you got any lube? I’m almost out.”

            Dean slants him a look of such incredulity that Sam just has to hold his hands up in surrender. “Left coat pocket.” Dean says in a tone steeped in superiority. Sam just shakes his head, fingers brushing the hex bag the witch had slipped into Dean’s pocket on his way to the tube of lube.

            “Really Dean, pineapple?” Sam asks flipping the tube over so he can get a better look at the happy, dancing pineapple depicted on the front. Dean just smirks smugly and watches Sam with half-lidded eyes, cheeks flushed and fingers tight around his straining dick.

             “You’re wearing too many clothes, buddy boy.” Dean growls instead of responding to the jab at his lube of choice. “Strip.” It should be a command, but it comes out as more a throaty rumble that has Sam scrambling out of his pants after he tosses the lube onto the bed. He slips his thumb under the band of his boxers and goes to pull them down and off when Dean interrupts him.

             “Keep’ em on.” His head drops to the bed and he bites his lip as he drags his eyes down Sam’s chest, to the juts of his hips to the long, thick line of his arousal straining against the tight fabric of his underwear. Sam lets the band snap against his stomach as he slides his thumbs free and then he’s back on the bed, Dean rolling back onto his belly. He moves so he’s on his knees and elbows, ass in the air, head down and cock still held in a death-grip as Sam shifts his boxers out of the way. Dean can’t see it, but he knows from memory that Sam’s dick is a thing of beauty.

            If God should get a pat on the back for any of the wonders he’s created, Sam’s dick is at the top of the list. He presses back when Sam’s cool, slick fingers press and slide against his heat and groans in frustration when Sam just rubs at his entrance instead of sinking a couple of fingers in there like he wants.  

            “Sam, you either put your dick in me or I just come fuckin’ come everywhere and then go the fuck to sleep.” Dean threatens.

            Sam just shakes his head in disbelief and lubes up. “So this is what being thoughtful gets me.” Sam mutters mournfully, fingers sliding smooth and quick over his hard length as his eagerness gets the better of him. “That’s it mister.” Dean mutters back and eases his grip. His orgasm builds fast and hard and without mercy right up until Sam folds himself over Dean’s back and slides a hand around his side so he can grip Dean by the base, fingers overlapping Dean’s.

            “Don’t think so, I ran for you.” Sam says almost accusingly, ignoring the way his voice breaks halfway through, against the back of Dean’s neck, the tip of his dick pressing against Dean’s entrance.

             “Yeah, but you love running.” Dean grunts back, rocking back hard onto Sam’s dick, only to have it slide against the crease of his ass. He gives a frustrated groan and tries to wrestle Sam’s fingers free so he can relieve the pressure in his balls.

            “Not in the cold, jackass.” Sam drawls in Dean’s ear, steadying himself with his other hand and pushing into Dean slow and easy. Dean is hot and tight around him and Sam has to pull his hand away from his dick so he can steady himself as a searing wave of pleasure rocks him. Dean’s making near silent sounds of pleasure, back arched as he pushes back onto Sam’s dick. It slides deeper inside of him, stretching him open with a delicious kind of burn that would have pushed Dean right over the edge if Sam didn’t have a hand on him.

            Sam’s just as incoherent as Dean, lips pressed to skin as Dean clenches down around him. Sam’s trying to hold back, to give Dean time to adjust, but Dean’s got his elbows under him and he pushes himself up onto Sam’s dick, practically sitting in his lap, until Sam’s buried to the hilt inside of him.

            Sam gasps, right in Dean’s ear, a shocky, growly little sound as he cums, buried deep in Dean. Sam wraps an arm around Dean’s chest, his hand loosening as Dean’s tight, wet heat clenches around him. Sam’s cum splashes hot inside of him and Dean drops his head back onto Sam’s shoulder, mouth open, eyes glossy as pleasure tears its way through him. The suddenness of being so open, so full, jerks an orgasm from him, his cock pulsing weakly in their combined hold as he cums with Sam balls deep inside of him.

            Sam strokes him through it as best as he can, cum dripping over his fingers as his cock gives a few last, feeble pulses before he eases Dean back down to the bed. He feels like he should apologize when the movement causes Dean to go stiff again as he cums dry, hips jerking as he fucks the mattress.

            Sam eases out slowly and careful, even though Dean’s inner muscles clench down around him, and backs away from Dean to give him a little space. Dean flops onto his back and gives Sam a satisfied, lazy grin, even though he’s already half asleep, eyes slitted half-way closed, and says with content smugness

             “You came first.”

            “4 times Dean. You came 4 times. You didn’t win this.” Sam huffs with amusement, grabbing his shirt up off the floor and tossing it at Dean. It lands in the mess of cum that is Dean’s groin and stomach as he heads to the bathroom to cleanup properly.

            “Yeah, but when it came to actually screwing, you came first.” Dean calls out almost gleefully, mopping at the mess on his chest. Sam snorts audibly from the bathroom and dodges his cum-covered shirt when Dean lobs it at his head. He flops into bed, the one not covered in cum, and waits for Dean to slide in behind him before he mutters in a patronizing tone “Yeah Dean, I came first.”

            Dean, being the mature, reasonable adult that he is, pulls his hair before spooning against Sam’s back.

            Sam wakes up before Dean and gets a good, hot shower before Dean the shower-hog steals all the hot water. It’s early; Dean shouldn’t be up for at least another hour, so the hard thump of the hex bag thudding against the back of his head is a little startling.

            “You mother-fucker.” Dean says, shaking his head with a mixture of pride and irritation, obviously still sore from last night if the way he’s moving is any indicator. Sam grins widely as he disappears back into the bathroom to finish brushing his teeth. “Cock-tease.” Sam counters, poking his head out the door, toothbrush in hand. He narrowly avoids getting pegged with Dean’s boot as he ducks back into the bathroom.

 


End file.
